That World Which He Desired
by Vee-sempai
Summary: He was told the world could be remade- just not how, by who, or when. Spoilers for entire series, both movies, and all current running manga.
1. Default Chapter

The blood-red water lapped longingly at the shore, some cruel mockery of the sea that used to be there. If it was the ocean, if it was the dissolved bodies of everyone who had lived, he didn't know and he couldn't bring himself to care. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered if there was nothing left to matter, nothing but him.

Nothing but him and the hand that touched his arm, light as a breeze but with enough presence to send a jolt to his stomach. "What are you doing…? Put that down."

"I'll do what I want." It was only a twisted shard of metal, but maybe it would be enough. "Leave me alone."

"You were the one who decided to live." The voice was distant, cool. "Isn't this the world you wanted?"

"No!" His voice broke, hand shaking at his side, clinging to the one thing he had some measure of control over. "How could I have wanted this? How could anyone want this!"

"So you didn't get what you wanted, so now you're gonna cry and stab yourself in the face until it all goes away?" This body, his lone companion, swept a hand through long red hair and laughed contemptuously. "You're such a loser."

"I know I am. I always have been. That's why this is best."

Blank, emotionless eyes took stock of him. "Running away is best?"

"At least I'm doing something!" he protested. "Just laying here for the rest of eternity, until I die of starvation, isn't that more cowardly? I'm making a decision!"

"You wanna die?" The mix of anger and hurt was too much to handle, and he had to look away. "Dying is a choice! You're giving up on everything, just giving up? When you fought so hard to live? I don't understand you."

"There's no use in living in a place like this! Look around!" He waved a hand impotently. "That sea there, that's people! Do you see what the world's become? There's nothing left to live for!"

"You rejected the chance to be one with everyone you love. Is loneliness not what you wanted?"

"I wanted to be me! When we fell apart, there was no me, there was no anyone else, we were all one thing, and I… I couldn't be. That isn't what I wanted, who would want that!"

"Obviously, most of the world wanted that, can't you see it? Why do you think we're the only ones here? People saw that chance to be one with everything and took it, but… it just wasn't good enough for you, or us, was it?" There was defeat on the tired, lovely face. "Nothing ever is, even when it should be."

"But… isn't this right, isn't this what we're supposed to be?" He was pleading now. "Aren't we supposed to be our own people? We can't… we can't feel anything, or know anything, if there's no one else…"

"That is the choice we are given. You chose to take it. Perhaps, in time, others will too."

The sand was rough against his elbows as he sagged in defeat. "I… this isn't the world I wanted. I didn't want to be alone."

"Of course you didn't, stupid. We're here. You're not alone."

"But I don't even know who you are."

"You never did."

He wept helplessly, staring up into the crimson sky. This wasn't what he wanted. What was the point of working so hard, fighting so long, suffering so much, when all that came of it was this?

"You know, the commander pushed for what he wanted. He didn't sit back and cry… maybe that's why you two never got along."

"He didn't get what he wanted either." He didn't say it with a lot of certainty. Maybe he had… there was no way of knowing. He couldn't ask now. Not that he could have before.

"He's one with your mother now. Isn't that enough?"

"I could have been with Mother plenty of times," he snapped rebelliously. "I came back, because there were other people that needed me. He apparently doesn't have that courtesy, not that I'm surprised."

"Oh, that's rich. You, Mr. Oedipus, complaining because your daddy isn't here? You'd just snipe and bitch if he was."

"That's not true." He'd lost the piece of metal, and one hand scrabbled for it. "If Father had really ever… if he'd just said he was sorry, just once, for what he did to me, I… I'd try. I really would."

"Would you? Well… maybe there's hope for you two, then… or there would have been." She sounded a bit despondent. "Every kid needs a father…"

"I… I just wanted to have a chance." The sky was hazy through the film of tears. "I… I just wanted to have friends and go to school and be loved and love somebody back and have a decently normal life. That's all."

"But that was not the lot you were given."

"Well, that's not fair!" 

"Tough chickens, if we always got- …do you hear that?"

He hadn't heard it, if only because there hadn't been a sound besides their breathing and the water for… forever, it seemed. But there was a distant rumbling, a low keening sound- something that screamed along his spine, something that just wasn't right-

The towering wall of red and sea foam gave him just enough time to lament his lack of control over his own death before it fell.


	2. Movement One

He'd only read about people like them before he'd moved to Tokyo-3; people who stood on street corners and tried to get your attention, sometimes with pamphlets, sometimes with plaintive voices. Sometimes they only wanted you to vote for someone, or donate to some cause, and they were okay. It was the ones who stood there with the desperation and sadness written over them like casual graffiti, the ones that reached for him with some sort of blind love and need- those were the ones he feared.

Because they felt it, too- that something was wrong. Maybe fire wasn't raining from the sky, people weren't raising from the dead, buildings didn't crumble before their eyes, but something was _wrong_. So they sang their hymns, cried for the sins of the world, and begged conversion, because something was coming.

He hated them. If he'd never seen anyone else with that blank fear in their eyes, not seen anyone else jumping at every sound, never had a grown man sob and take his hand, whispering "do you remember?"… maybe then, he could have forgotten, could have been sure it was all just a particularly vivid nightmare.

He hated them, with a blackness that gnawed hungrily into his chest.

"Shinji! Stop gaping, stupid!"

The schoolbag that crashed into the side of his head was a welcome wake-up call, and he shook out of his smothering gloom, blinking mournfully up into dangerously sharp blue eyes.

"Asuka… I'm sorry." Shinji picked himself up from the bench, forcing the thoughts back. "Were you waiting long? I must not have seen you."

"Nah, just got here, I saw Hikari off." She waited impatiently, a hand on one hip, following his every move. "C'mon, we're gonna be late. It's Friday, traffic's gonna be bad."

He nodded mutely, falling into step beside her. Other students continued to stream out of the school behind them, some to their bicycles, others to the nearest train station. Asuka 'tsk'ed and shoved through the crowd, Shinji falling comfortably into her wake. She always looked like a spark dancing over a pile of ash, long red hair swinging over her shoulders, eyes bright and sharp.

Almost without noticing, Shinji reached forward and trailed a few fingers through the ends of her hair. She'd washed it this morning, several hours ago, but it was still damp, springy and curled slightly at the ends.

"Idiot." Asuka smacked his hand, then pulled him to the car. "Stop being creepy."

"Sorry." Shinji smiled a little, not too sorry at all. It was comforting, to get snapped at every now and then. It was normal, and he liked it.

It was still strange to see Asuka sitting behind the wheel of a car. On some level, he still thought of her as fourteen, the age they'd both been when she'd moved in. It had been years since then, but he seemed to have problems remembering.

He couldn't remember a lot of things.

"Asuka…?" he asked carefully, looking at her out of the corner of his eye as she started the engine. "How long have we been doing this?"

His heart dropped when he saw her hands clench on the wheel, white-knuckling. He wasn't sure what he wanted her to say; whether he wanted a casual answer that everything was normal, or maybe that… maybe that she couldn't quite be sure, either…

"Well, I don't know…" Her tone was deliberately casual. "I've been taking you to practice for a while, since Misato picked up that extra shift."

"When was that?" he pressed. "How long ago?"

"What, don't you remember?" She was laughing, but avoiding his intent gaze.

"Don't you?" he asked softly, a lump in his throat.

Asuka was quiet for a long time, then snorted and reached for the radio. "You ask the stupidest questions," she muttered. "You piss me off, Shinji."

He was quiet after that, knowing that prying any further would just provoke her. It had been useless to try, after all. Sure, she'd been unsettled by the questions, that much was clear, but she had a right to be.

Asuka, after all, was the one who had to take the brunt every time he fell apart. It was Asuka he'd clung to at two in the morning, gibbering nonsense about giant blinking eyes and poles stabbing through his palms. It was Asuka who told Misato-san he was too sick to go to school when he'd accidentally cut his hand and had been unable to stop shaking at the sight of the blood. It was Asuka who told him over and over again that he wasn't crazy.

Even if she hated him, it was okay. Because she was still there.

The sun was setting by the time they pulled into the rundown parking lot, so Shinji was lugging his cello to the door before he noticed the windows were black. He stopped, just blinking in abject confusion.

"I think they're closed!" Asuka's voice sounded perturbed through the open car window. "Check the door."

He jiggled the handle, then discovered it was indeed locked, much to his dismay. Shinji glared at the empty building, feeling somewhat betrayed, then sighed and reversed direction.

"Did your teacher say anything about being on vacation or something?" Asuka raised an eyebrow at him over her shoulder as he eased the heavy case into the backseat, obviously prepared to blame him for the fruitless drive.

"No, he didn't… he didn't say a word, I wonder where he is?" He pushed the door shut with a heavy sigh.

"People disappear every day, you know."

The chill that ran down his spine was paralyzing, and yet while every fiber of his being was telling him to obey his gut reaction and not move a muscle, Shinji couldn't help but look.

It was just an old man leaning on the side of the building, just an old man in a ratty hat and coat, but it brought back the nightmare, _I know you, but I've never met you_, and he couldn't breathe, mouth dry and hanging open.

The man's eyes were blank, nonthreatening, and yet he couldn't help but think there was something there he wasn't supposed to see. "You look very much like your father, Ikari Shinji."

"Get in the car," Asuka said softly. "Shinji. Get in the car."

He didn't know how he managed to obey her, managed to wrench himself into the passenger's seat and slam the door shut. He could feel his fingers shaking as he locked the door, Asuka's face grim and bloodless as she hit the car into reverse fast enough to squeal the tires.

No matter how he looked at it, it was impossible to believe that everything was like it was supposed to be. This kind of thing shouldn't happen. He shouldn't be breathing shallowly, thumbs pressed into his palms where he could remember the ache, tears lingering in the corners of his eyes. It had probably just been some crazy homeless guy with some sort of luck, maybe he'd seen him before, it wasn't anything. He shouldn't be gulping for air, like he was drowning.

"Forget about it, Shinji." Her voice was curt, each word bit off. "It's nothing to worry about. Just some freak."

"He knew my name, Asuka."

"I said forget it." She turned the radio back on, and that was the end of the conversation.

He knew better than to argue, but it didn't stop him from thinking about it, from hoping to catch some sort of discomfort on Asuka's face every time he saw her for the rest of the night. Once Misato-san got back from work, with long stories about electrical overhauls and a few cases of beer, things felt more normal again. Asuka was sniping and laughing again, and Misato-san was drunk and saying things about her coworkers she really shouldn't, and he was left to watch and smile and think that maybe he was just being stupid after all, maybe this was the way life was supposed to be.

So when Asuka came in at night to steal his CD player, he didn't reach out to touch her arm, to make sure she was warm, even though he wanted to. The memories of her lying in a hospital bed, staring and lifeless- just dreams, he was sure.

"G'night," she called, heading for the door. "No nightmares, all right? I've got a date tomorrow, I need my damn sleep."

"I'll try," he said sheepishly, leaning into his pillows. "I'm sorry, it must be a hassle, dealing with me… Like having a crazy brother you're not even related to."

Asuka stopped at the door, and suddenly wasn't smiling anymore. "You're not crazy," she said quietly, and there was steel in her voice. "Anyone calls you crazy, I'll cut their balls off. You hear me?"

"Asuka…" He tried to shrug it off. "I know I am, I mean… I can't even tell you what I dream about, I-"

"I know what you dream about." There was something in her eyes that hurt somewhere inside his chest, something he wanted desperately to look away from.

"How?" he whispered, regretting it the instant he said it.

"Because I remember it too."

Shinji sat up for a long time in the darkness, no longer sure in his reality.


	3. Movement Two

He woke the next morning with slender arms wound around his neck, head pillowed on his chest and hair in his mouth. Shinji sneezed, pulling golden-red strands off his cheeks, then stared bleakly at the ceiling. At least it had been a dreamless night, he had that much to thank, but the crust of dried tears around his eyes reminded him all too abruptly of what had gone the night before.

"It's about time you woke up," Asuka muttered into his chest, a hand batting at his face. "Was starting to wonder if you ever would."

"When did you come in?" he asked hesitantly. He remembered sitting up into the early hours, but he'd been alone- he must have fallen asleep to the bass rumbles of Asuka's stereo through the wall, which had started up only minutes after she'd left his room. His portable CD player must not have been enough to drown out her thoughts.

"When Misato went to work. I was gonna make you wake up and make me breakfast, but you looked so comfortable that I decided going back to bed was okay too."

"And your own room was too far away, huh?" It was a much more reassuring explanation than he'd been expecting. It hadn't been the first time she'd invaded his bed early in the morning, but it was the first time she'd let him stay in it. Usually he woke up somewhere on the floor, with a sheet thrown at him if she'd kicked it off in the middle of the night.

"You know it." Asuka yawned, then shoved at him, indicating she wanted the pillows. Shinji got up somewhat begrudgingly, padding across the cool floor to his closet. "Oooh, Misato said to tell you that your _girlfrieeend_ is coming over today, to pick up her absence papers."

"Ayanami isn't my girlfriend, Asuka." It was a tired argument, one he could easily recite while half-asleep and attempting to change out of his pajamas while exposing no skin. 

"Yeah, I _know_ she's just your attempt at a heterosexual front, Captain Faggo, but 'girlfriend' is shorter." 

"Speaking of, didn't you have a date today?" Refocusing the conversation to Asuka would change the subject in a flash, and he didn't feel like dealing with the smug ridicule too early in the morning.

"Aaaah, fuck 'im. I've got more important things to do."

"Such as?" Shinji eyed her over his shoulder, then pulled his shirt over his head.

"Such as, getting a few things straight with my favorite freak job." Asuka rolled onto her back, pajama top riding up over her ribs. Shinji paused, then crossed the small room to sit on the mattress, facing away from her. A hand rested briefly against his back, but retreated when he jumped in surprise.

"D'ya know… you cry in your sleep?" she asked quietly.

Things had been going so normally, so by a regular weekend schedule, that the sudden weight of her words was more than a little disquieting. He looked down at his hands, thumbs pressing nervously into the imagined scar in the center.

"…I do?"

"Yeah." She touched his back again, and though he tensed, it apparently wasn't enough to scare her back a second time. "And you talk."

"Have you heard…?" There was an uncomfortable lump in his throat. "What do I say?"

"Well, a lot of shit that doesn't make sense, but…" There was something unreadable in Asuka's voice, but he knew well enough by now that she was going to continue, and he probably wasn't going to like what she had to say. So he waited.

"Shinji… what did the First do to you?"

In truth, what she said was completely nonsensical. Or at least it should have been. But when she said 'the First', only half his brain connected it to nothing, the way it should have. The other half, quite confidently, thought 'Ayanami', and so he answered.

"Ayanami… didn't do anything to me, Asuka." Because nightmares didn't count. "I must have just been dreaming, that's all."

"That's a load of bull," she snapped, hand tightening on his back. "There's a difference between just dreaming and remembering things in your sleep. I should know."

"…What do you mean?" Shinji turned to face her, genuinely confused.

Asuka looked up at him like he had a horn growing out of his forehead. "I watched my mother _hang herself_, you moron!" she snapped. "I dream about that all the time, it's different from nightmares!"

It was hard to speak for a minute, and when he managed it, it ached. "Asuka… your mother died giving birth to you," he said hollowly. "You told me so yourself." He remembered, because he'd been able to identify, never having known his mother either. He'd only known of her through the pictures his grandmother had, when he'd lived with them. Now that his grandparents were gone, it was as though she'd never existed.

"…What? No, she didn't!" Asuka shot up from the bed, brow furrowing, voice raising in visible anger. "She- she got divorced from Dad, and then killed herself! Haven't you read my files, Shinji? I saw her hanging there, just when I ran in to tell her-"

The words hung in the air as she silenced abruptly, eyes wide and staring into his. Shinji resisted the urge to put his arms around her, knowing she would fight him tooth and nail. She just looked so.. so _desolate_, so lost…

"You're right," she said finally. "You're right, she did die before I met her. I… I don't know what I was thinking."

Shinji hesitated, then touched her shoulder. "Maybe… maybe, this is all just-"

The business-like rap at the door took precedence over whatever he was trying to say. "That must be Ayanami," he said hurriedly, glad he'd taken the time to put clothes on. "I'll get the door… maybe you should get dressed, Asuka…?"

"Eh, I will in a minute." She laid back down heavily, distressingly pale. "You go do your thing."

Shinji made sure to close the door behind him, then hurried over to the front. He opened the front door just as she was preparing to knock again.

"Ikari-kun," Rei said calmly. "Am I too early?"

"No, no…" He flushed and ushered her in. "I'm sorry, I slept in by accident, so I was rushing around trying to get things together… I think I forgot to set my alarm…"

"I do not mind." Without even asking, she picked up the packet of papers they'd brought for her from school. "Is this all?"

"Yeah… we didn't do much in school." Shinji shoved his hands in his pockets. There had always been something about her that made him both at ease and incredibly insecure at the same time. Crimson eyes regarded him with what would seem to be a complete lack of emotion, if one ignored the tiny crease on her forehead.

"Are you unwell?"

"N-no." It was strange, how she looked so different in his nightmares. This face was so calm, so gentle, even… more like a Madonna than the crazed monster with staring eyes and lolling neck. Then, she was emptiness, some primordial force that made him feel like he was being swallowed; now, and every other time, there was just a presence that surrounded him in comfort, quiet light, warmth.

"Hm." She sounded like she didn't quite believe him, with the tiniest arch of an eyebrow that made him cringe. "Have you seen your father lately…?"

"No." And he certainly didn't plan to. 

"He requested I pass on to you that he paid your teacher for the time you spent under his care." Rei was paging through the homework assignments, uncaring.

"What?" Shinji racked his brain, trying to remember. A teacher… that he'd spent time with…? "Ayanami… what exactly do you mean?"

"The man you lived with after your mother passed away," she said matter-of-factly.

"I lived with my grandparents," he said softly, feeling his hands begin to ache.

"No, you didn't." Rei wouldn't meet his eyes. "You're mistaken. Also, I was informed a medical exam will be taking place this Monday at school. I would advise you participate, you don't look well."

"Ayanami, I-"

"I must go, I have an appointment." With that, she was pulling the door closed behind her, leaving the scent of metal and disinfectant in her wake.

Shinji leaned against the counter, inexplicably drained. It was as though everything was tied together with thread- snap one, and the rest followed posthaste. 

The rest of the morning was a blur of pancakes, cereal, homework and television, the same as any day they weren't in school. Asuka seemed dead set against further discussion of anything with more importance than who was cheating on who on the soap operas, and he was fine with that, until Romero told Mia that he must have been born just to meet her, and he could only sob into Asuka's shoulder until Misato came home, because it hurt somewhere deep inside.

Everything was falling apart, piece by piece, memory by memory, and he knew, he dreaded, that he would dream of apocalypse the moment he closed his eyes.


End file.
